


Run Like Hell Is Chasing You

by Professionalatfangirling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6284323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professionalatfangirling/pseuds/Professionalatfangirling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rory Rivera breaks down at a highway rest stop she never would have guessed in a million years what she had dreamed of a million times. Now she's screwed.</p><p>(I'll be updating the Summary and Tags when the story warrants it. No archive warning apply YET.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurry Up

As the headlights of cars flashed past her curtains into her tiny bedroom at infrequent intervals, Rory Rivera knew she was very late. Her hand closed around her phone as she shot a message off to her best friend, listed only as Lady Gaybe™, cursing under her breath in Spanish.  
  
    "heded out the door now ^3^!! see you in a sec!! xoxox <3<3<3<#"  
  
    This, my dears, is what we call lying.  
  
    Rory crossed her room in two steps and yanked open her closet, pulled her clothes from their hangers and threw them to the floor. Her eyes darted into the back of her closet and she shivered, Florida had decided to be unusually cold for July and no amount of layers would change that. This doesn't stop her form throwing on a hoodie before she dropped to her knees and winced at the hard wood. Her phone went off again and she stared down at the screen.  
  
    "Headed* <3*" Stared back at her.  
  
    Rory's eyes rolled almost involuntarily as she dropped her phone and her hands darted to the pile of roughly three weeks worth of clothes in front of her that she swiftly ranger rolled and stuffed into her all too tiny sloth pack. Her phone went off, again to be ignored. Headphones are pulled on as her phone is jammed into her bag and quickly tossed over one shoulder and instantly she darted out the door immediately after. Rory took the stairs three at a time, slammed into the wall of the first landing with what can only be described as a loud Spanish squawk, and stumbled only briefly before she flew down the last few steps and out to her bike.  
  
    An old Yamaha cruiser that had been obtained through questionable means, by this I mean craigslist, lay on it's side in front of her. It was visibly rusty and the paint had been entirely stripped away but at least it got her where she needed to be. Of course she currently needed to be on the highway about twenty minutes ago but that was Rory's fault, not her bike's. Months of planning had gone into the three weeks she would spend at Gabby's place, and here she was, already off schedule.  
  
    Street lights lined the highway and flashed past her blurring vision as pink hair whipped about her face. Her hands shook slightly and it didn't occur to her until she was already on the highway that she had completely forgotten to tie back her hair as well as grab her glasses. The music that played through her headphones was completely drowned by the blood that rushed in her head, she only noticed it's absence when it cut out suddenly. Her engine was groaning beneath her and her heart skipped a beat. Craigslist man. Craigslist.  
  
    The street lights ahead of her were out and the street lights behind her were growing further into the distance as her breath came out short. She was actually going to die seventeen years old because of a janked up motorcycle. Her swearing wasn't under her breath, it was loud and proud and somewhat shrieked as she jerked her bike off to the side, pulling over to what looked to be a truck stop.  
  
    Rory slowed her bike to a stop, her legs sticking out like the worlds worst designed brakes and leaned her head against the handles, only glancing up when she remembered her phone. She looked at the truck stop with more than a bit of hesitance. The lights were on but dim and the windows were blown out She couldn't see anything moving inside. She was swearing in Spanish now, whispered under her breath as she got off of her bike and made her way inside, eyes six inches above the floor until they zeroed in on a wall socket. She practically threw herself at it, fishing her phone out of her bag by her headphone cord and plugging it in was the most relief she had felt in weeks. The lights of the building flickered as her phone's screen lit up and she squealed in delight. Her fingers tapped the screen lightly as she sent an S.o.S. to Lady Gaybe™. Rory's phone was left plugged in on the floor and her knees were pulled up to her chest. She could feel her pulse throughout her entire body.  
  
    "Gabby'll answer back in just a second. She's cool like that. Yeah," Her voice came out shaky, "Everything's going to be-" There was an unidentifiable sound outside immediately followed up by the sound of Rory slapping both of her hands over her mouth.  
  
    Her legs were shaking almost to much to hold her weight but she forced herself to stand, walking slowly to the door of the truck stop and leaning her head out. Everything blurred more than usual and she fell to her knees with a shout, her hands coming up to her head as she ground her teeth. She was either being pulled in every direction at once, or drowning from the inside out, or dying in reverse. There was no air. There was no light. She couldn't breath, there was no way to breathe, why can't she breathe?  
  
    Why can't I breathe? I can feel my hands shaking and I move them in front of me but I can't see them.  
  
    No. She can't see them.  
  
    Am I her?  
  
    This is wrong.  
  
    Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

* * *

 

Hazy voices surround me and I'm still drowning. I must be, I can smell the sea and fish and salty ocean air, and I can't seem to take a breath. My hands are tangled in my hair and a sharp pain is radiating from my scalp. Did I rip out my own hair? My lungs are shaking now. I didn't know that was possible. Muscles are spasming near uncontrollably and I can barely force myself to move but I pull my hands from my hair slowly, wincing as I pull my fingers free of the tangles.  
  
    The voices just got louder at that and my hands fly back to my head, this time clasped tightly over my ears. My eyes are shut but I squeeze them tighter. Something's missing, but I can't quite reach it. My bike broke down. My phone died. My Gabby didn't text back. I double over as I choke in another breath of sea air. Is it possible to breathe too much? My lungs are too full and I don't have the bravery to open my eyes.  
  
    Thin calloused fingers wrap tightly around one of my wrists and my eyes snap open. It's dark out but I can make out the heavily pierced woman with dark skin, beautifully wild hair and blank white eyes staring down at me as if she's seeing more than I ever could. Her grip tightens as I stare at her in shock. "I d-don't- " My voice is too raspy to continue and I choke again.  
  
    I don't think I've blinked once since my eyes were startled open and now I can't shut them. There's another woman behind the one in front of me, much older than the first and holding out a hand glowing with an ethereal light. She steps forwards illuminating the three of us with her glow and speaks in a low tone. "Dear child, be at peace. " She steps closer, holding out her glowing hand as if to touch me, "You are meant no harm by u-"  
  
    My uncontrollable shrieking interrupts her. Somewhat rude, yes, but entirely justified.  
  
    It's wrong. It's wrong and bad and shouldn't be like that and hands don't glow.  
  
    My stomach is turning and I'm shaking again. The woman holding my wrist loosens her grip at my fright and I throw myself backwards, ripping myself form her grasp in the process. Brown eyes darting about take in as much detail as I can while barely maintaining my grasp on reality. I don't have my glasses and my vision is blurry but what I see has my heart skipping beats.  
  
    I was on an alter. An honest to god stone alter covered in twining ivy and elaborate weathered carvings in the middle of a beach. I stumble, nearly tripping over my own feet as I back away from the women standing before me. Their hands are held out as if in supplication and I think they might be speaking but my heart is pounding in my ears. The sea air is pounding in my lungs. The women are both approaching cautiously and I freeze, this feels too real and too fake all at once. I hear some kind of dog howl in the distance and I'm not frozen any more.  
  
    I don't know I've run away until I've collapsed to my knees completely winded at the edge of a wooden walkway. There a sail boats docked nearby and warm light pours from the open windows of the buildings hugging the oceans edge. Even the sound of my boots hitting the wood of the dock as I force myself to keep moving startles me. I approach the waters edge and drop to my knees to look in. The water is clear and clean, not a glass bottle or plastic bag in sight.  
  
    I see my face reflected back at me, and reach out slowly to touch my reflection mirrored in the water. I look like shit, and I'm shaking too much to safely reach out to the water so I sit back on my haunches and look up, flinching back and falling to rest my weight on my arms when I see the sky. Millions of stars are sprawled before me, falling and hovering, flickering and dieing. I see more stars in one instance than I've ever seen before and now my breath is caught by awe as it cuts through the fear. My head tips back and my eyes flutter for a moment before slamming back open once again.  
  
    The fear has returned in full.  
  
    There are two moons hanging above me in the sky.  
  
    Wrong. Bad. Not real. Can't happen.  
  
    My breathing cuts in and out, sawing through my lungs painfully as my eyes flood with tears and my hands clasp my head again. I spend the rest of the night sobbing uncontrollably. I want to be able to tell you that I cried until there weren't any tears left and moved on, but I already know I'll never run out. I only stop crying when the sun breaks through the horizon and takes what little breath I'd managed away.  
  
    I force myself onto shaking legs and look ahead along the dock. There are already people milling about, strange people dressed in strange clothing and covered in various piercings. I steel my nerves and step forwards, slowly headed north up the dock towards the village before me. There's stony outcroppings blocking most of the view but what becomes very apparent very quickly is that this society is not an advanced one. The buildings are wooden boarded up little things, the ones fringing the town, maybe city, are barely the size of my one bedroom apartment. I'm getting odd looks but I'm giving odder ones as I dance my finger tips over any and every surface I can reach, eyes wide in disbelief. The buildings get taller as I make my way through, though they don't seem steady enough to justify the height and I'm suddenly reminded of the Weasley's home from Harry Potter.  
  
    I don't know why that makes me laugh but it does, a giggle bubbling up from my throat as I stare around at my surroundings. A medieval town full of people dressed vaguely like pirates stares back and I just laugh harder.  
  
    I might be hysterical.  
  
    A man approaches me warily, eyeing me up and down and holds his hands out as if he were approaching a nervous animal. "Are you... quite all right, serah?" He asks this in an accent that I can't quite place. It's far too posh to be American but it isn't from any part of Britain I could name and that just sets me off laughing harder.  
  
    It takes me a moment to regain coherence but when I do I just shake my head and say in a voice far too happy and far too casual for how I actually feel, "I have no idea where the hell I am!" I'm speaking too loud and I know it. The man starts back slightly and looks uncomfortable. It might be because of my grin. It doesn't feel quite right on my face. Definitely too much teeth.  
  
    People are stopping to stare now and the man seems at a loss for words. Luckily for the both of us a woman is generous enough to step forwards and say in the same strange accent, " Serah, you're in Dairsmuid." At my blank stare she hesitates but continues tentatively, "In Rivain?" It's a statement but it comes out like a question and I can feel my face fall instantly at her words.  
  
    Dairsmuid in Rivain.  
  
    Wrong.  
  
    Wrong. Bad. Not happening. I refuse. Nope.

* * *

 


	2. Keep Going

I think I collapsed again. I really aught to stop doing that, it's absolutely killer on your knees and my joints have always been pathetic. The woman who'd spoken earlier is holding most of my weight and I stare at her openly. She's speaking again, I know this because her mouth is moving and I'm still staring aren't I? None of the words make sense right now. I think it's because of the accent. Isabela's accent. Isabela who is fictional. Like Rivain.  
  
    I lean away from the woman who let's go of me and take in my surroundings with much more awareness than I had before. It looks like the art books, the official one's I treasured like they were somehow relevant to any part of reality, but it's so much more alive. Bird's fly above and I squint at them. I think the might be gulls. I don't know why that helps but I'm breathing evenly now and my manic smile is back.  
  
    Seagulls. Plain old, regular, normal seagulls. Just like Florida.  
  
    Earth.  
  
    Just like Earth.  
  
    Well, there goes breathing normally. Shutting my eyes I count to ten. Surviving ten seconds is easy, so I do ten more. When next I open my eyes my smile is more natural. Fake as all hell, bu natural. I turn to the woman who had caught me, bowing my head low, and speak, "My Lady, I apologize for the inconvenience." My voice cracks slightly and my smile falters, "I've traveled far in too short of a time and it appears to have disoriented me."  
  
    She seems confused but the people who had been watching move on and that's good enough for me. Whatever my deal was, it certainly isn't important enough to interrupt their lives. My heart beats more evenly with less people watching me.  
  
    A delicate hand lands on my shoulder and I find myself flinching as if I were about to be struck and the woman pulls away her hand, "N-Now child, you've no need to be so formal." I look up to her and her smile is gentle. "Where are you from? You must be very lost."  
  
    I'm embarrassed by her attention, I've never been good with women smiling at me. Weak and gay might as well be my middle name. My eyes land on my legs and I end up squinting. In direct sunlight I'm even more ridiculously pale. It's no wonder she thinks I'm lost, I look like I've never seen the sun. To be fair I do avoid it whenever possible but still, direct sunlight on my skin shouldn't be painful to look at. I flick my eyes up to her and shuffle my feet slightly, suddenly anxious. "I- I don't know Ma'am."  
  
    This startles her once more but if it worked for the inquisitor I can work with it too. Of course Varric would be telling me to spin a story. Varric who isn't a story. My face falls again. The woman seems pitying and with a noise that can only be described as a coo, she scoops me into her arms, "You poor dear, don't you worry, you'll be safe with me."  
  
    The moment she lunged for me I froze and now my hearing's going out again, even if I weren't in what I'm assuming is shock she's speaking too fast to follow. I tense up further. Am I being adopted? Does she think I'm a child? I lift my hands between us and as politely as I can push myself away from her, wrapping myself in my own arms when I'm at a comfortable distance, "I- I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding..."  
  
    I can practically  hear Varric's voice again, "I would've spun a story. It's more believable." and immediately the thought is followed up with a resounding "Fuck it."  
  
    Picturing the world map in my head I make an educated guess and hope, "I'm from, uh, a village a little way's to the north." I need to head north to leave Rivain so that should work, "It's a small village, not big enough to be on any map o-or even to have a name. W-When I said I didn't know, I meant I didn't know what to call It..." My fingers are crossed behind my back and my voice cracked again but the woman's nodding along with what I'm saying so I must be doing something right.  
  
    I feel a little bit bad about lying to her since she seemed pretty nice but even in Rivain I'm fairly certain, "I'm from another world, pretty sure your seers grabbed me on accident, you wouldn't happen to know what year it is would you?" wouldn't fly.  
  
    Even in Rivain.  
  
    Seers.  
  
    Both thoughts throw me but whatever look the woman saw on my face was clearly misinterpreted as whatever made her grab me earlier. She reaches out her hand again as if to pull me to her, and I find myself stepping back hastily. Thankfully she catches herself and is holding back. She looks so concerned for my well being that I'm mentally kicking myself even as I store the information in the back of my mind. Clearly I'm being treated like a child.  
  
    I tense up. "Oh dear Lord above please don't be a body swapping fic." The thought makes me feel ridiculous but this is definitely some fanfiction nonsense and I am not here to be the herald or whoever. I like being alive, thank you very much.  
  
    I start suddenly, looking up with wide eyes as the woman calls a man over to her side, gesturing between us and speaking in a language I've never heard. One fictional person asking questions was quite enough for me thank you, but you can't always get what you want. This becomes more apparent as the man comes over and squats in front of me, actually squats, and speaking in a very condescending tone says, "So someone wandered a little ways from home didn't she?"  
  
    Understatement of the century.  
  
    "Don't you worry your sweet little head off."  
  
    I'm not worried, I'm completely fucking delusional, that's what I am.  
  
    "We're gonna go get some nice people to get some supplies and then we'll walk you home. How's that sound?"  
  
    Shit.  
  
    I school my expression and try to look happy and excited and I think I might be pulling it off because the man mimics the same fake excited look before standing and turning to look at the woman.  
  
    Walk me home. Walk me home my ass I just made the place up, where're we supposed to walk to Narnia? Wait... Is Narnia real too? I have a headache.  
  
    Both of them speaking in lowered tones and I'm straining to listen in. Fortunately for me the word Templar stands out like a flashing neon sign. Yay. Narnia it is.  
  
    I set off in a dead tilt run to the north, ignoring the sounds of the people shouting behind me. Lying to well meaning grownups? Sure! Lying to paranoid stab happy Templars? Nope! My sloth pack bounces on my back and I wrap my fists around the straps, tugging it closer. I've never been the healthiest person. I got a D in P.E. and I genuinely didn't know that was possible. I don't run for hours. In fact I barely run for minutes, but the running I do manage has me ducked down behind a boulder.  
  
    If there's one thing I do well it's not moving for hours on end. I mean, really, it's practically a national past time. I manage to stay curled up in one spot all the way til sundown, my muscles protesting loudly when I stand up and stretch out my legs. North and then west. Spending hours sitting in one spot pinching yourself repeatedly does wonders for delusion, and in the time I spent hiding I've made a plan. If this is some kind of lucid coma dream or something it's definitely a shitty one, so I'm going to Orlais. They have cake, they have coffee, and most important of all they have sewers. From what I remember of the world map off the top of my head if I follow the shoreline I'm on now I can make it to Val Royeaux.  
  
    My thighs are killing me. I've done more running today than I've done in years. The fact that my legs are trying to chew themselves off is a loud reminder of why it's been years, but this is Thedas, even if it's fake moving is a must. I set off down the shoreline, walking at a fairly steady pace and watching my every step in case of hazards.

* * *

You know what's nice? Streets. Evenly paved streets. I'm reminded of this as I trip over my own feet, or a twig, or, I don't know, a fucking pebble for the umpteenth time in who the hell knows how long. I am not a clumsy person. Probably. I don't move often enough on a daily basis to know that for sure but this is just ridiculous.  
  
    I kick up sand as I walk and curse under my breath. It's coarse, irritating and it get's everywhere. Yes. This will be why I join the darkside. My steps slow down and I wait for a lightsaber to start swinging but this dream's kept to it's unfortunately consistent continuity so far and I've no luck with changing it through willpower alone.  
  
    It's probably been another hour and I haven't sped back up. My eyelids feel like they've lead weights tied to them and so do my arms and legs. My backpack is a fuzzy pink stuffed animal and even that feels like it's thousands of pounds. I can't believe I'm having trouble walking. All the fiction I've read about situations like this, where the quirky protagonist teleports into a wonderful world so much better than their own and practically rules the place by the end of it, and when I do this shit I'm having trouble walking. Just the thought makes my boots feel heavier.  
  
    Dairsmuid's been out of sight for a while now but there's no sight of civilization ahead. I can't stop flinching and squeaking at any and everything the moves nearby.  
  
    I am well and truly pathetic.  
  
    I don't stop walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any curious reader's wondering about the timeline Rory arrived a little too late for Kirkwall and a little to early for Inquisition and that's one of the only mercy's she's getting from me! ;3 but "Don't you worry your sweet little head off." things get dangerously adventure-y fairly soon, just gotta move my pawn a little ways across the board first! ^3^


	3. Can't Stop Yet

Willow trees appear to be fairly common wherever I am in Rivain, a fact I am thankful for when I spend my nights sleeping beneath their boughs. I know I'm not safe but something about being surrounded by branches and leaves helps greatly. Maybe it's because I don't have to see twin moons staring down at me, maybe it's just because I'm used to having a roof over my head. Either way it helps.  
  
    I forgot to count the days but I've been here at least a month now. Every morning I wake up but keep my eyes shut. I can smell the earth beneath me and air that's never known pollution, and I can't force my own eyes open. Thedas is deadly but waking up everyday and moving on has been one of the hardest things I've dealt with yet.  
  
    Also going to the bathroom. That sucks too.  
  
    The deadly wildlife isn't doing me any favors either. The amount of time I've spent hid up trees alone is phenomenal.  
  
    I'm still walking. I've stopped in three towns so far and managed to get a bite to eat here and there in all of them. My clothes have been crammed further into my bag to make room for stale bread and a water skin. Thedosians definitely see me as a child. Not everyone is as open to me being here as the people in Dairsmuid were but so far I've been able to safely rely on peoples pity. Sometimes I feel bad for playing into it but I figured out fairly early on that I can't take care of myself when two towns ago, it was called Ayesleigh I think, I joined the fishermen at the dock to earn a days wages and buy some supplies. When handed a knife to gut a fish, I burst into tears and vomited.  
  
    Not at the same time, but still.  
  
    They were kind enough to let me keep the knife, a blunt little thing I don't even know how to hold, and the didn't try to get me to gut another fish. I ended up in the local tavern bringing people their meals and drinks. I always hated being a waitress back home but the familiarity was comforting. I think I surprised them with how quickly I took to it despite being incompetent in every other possible way.  
  
    I kick up dust as I walk, my eyes focused on the ground. I have to move forwards but I can't look ahead. I'm glad I forgot my glasses, I don't think I could live with how close the horizon is. I shake the thought out of my head and continue on.  
  
    My feet ache, my legs ache, and my head aches but fortunately sunburn is out of the question. One town ago a kind old woman gave me a straw hat big enough to rival Cole's, in exchange for running messages for her for the day. I keep running my fingertips over the edge. The repetition soothes me and the straw feels nice. Plus I can tuck my pink hair away under it without getting side eyed. I'm going to need to find someone to cut it for me. Sera's hair is cute but with this knife and my level of inexperience I'd probably stab myself in the face if I did my own.  
  
    Night falls just before I reach Antiva City and it's all the more beautiful for it. It looks like the comics, streets carved out of stone winding their way ever upwards increasing in grandeur as it goes. My feet carry me down a path towards a bridge that's being lifted at the center to allow a ship into the harbor. The sea is beautiful but I've lost my ability to ignore the night sky reflecting off of it and turn away. As the bridge is lowered a guard nods at me and I nod back with a smile and head across. The view is slightly shattered by the smell of rotting flesh. Probably leather being tanned.  
  
    My legs are killing me and just the thought of all the inclines this city has forces a small moan of pain from my lips. I've been visibly limping for miles now and it's just getting worse. About half a month back while lying face down on the ground and groaning I figured out that the Warden, Champion, and Inquisitor were all goddamn Olympians. And their faces are stupid. Probably. I stumble slightly down the path before I sit down with a whimper and dig the heels of my hands into my thighs. They're still exposed of course, my pajama shorts haven't magically grown in this past month. I really need to stumble across some money soon, this whole half naked thing really ain't doing it for me.  
  
    My head thumps back against one of the pathways walls with an audible crack and I'm swearing in Spanish under my breath. Gotta stick to your roots somehow. I thought I had a foul mouth before I ended up here but you would be surprised how many reasons Thedas gives you to swear. It's being a bit to generous with them really. My eyes flutter shut and I groan again. This delusion, nightmare, thing is getting exhausting.  
  
    I pull my thoroughly bruised knees to my chest so my entire body is tucked under my hat and drift off into an uncomfortable dreamless sleep.

* * *

When next I wake a familiar face is looking down at me. A tattoo decorates one side of a face so attractive it's kind of ridiculous and blonde hair that's longer than I remember is pushed back behind pointed ears. Sparkling hazel eyes trace over me and I blame Zevran's mind blowing smirk for what I say next.  
  
    "So this is a dream..."  
  
    My sleepy mumble paired with big doe eyes makes him laugh and holy shit that's Zevran. Real and in the flesh and so very Handsome™. "I have been known to have that effect on people, yes."  
  
    Holy shit that accent. I'm staring aren't I? Dear lord that smile. I bolt upright to my feet, reaching up to tuck hair that's already tucked away behind my ear and nervously flutter my hand about before settling on pulling the front of my hat down. I'm blushing aren't I? Shit. "I- Um, that's not- I mean it is! I just- "My throat lets out a whine like a kicked puppy and I step back, looking down. My eyes catch on his shoes and I find myself giggling. "Antivan leather, huh?"  
  
    "It is, " He's looking me up and down again, "You are very observant, my dear." My head darts up and I can feel my eyes get ridiculously wide. He must notice too since and laughs again. Dear Lord I must look like a potoo. He's generous enough to notice my discomfort and change the subject, "That is an exotic accent you have, I have not heard it's like anywhere in my travels." Abort. Not a good subject change.  
  
    "I- Oh I, that is- Thank you." I bow. I fucking bow, like that's a thing that people actually do. I called an assassin I fictionally wooed a dream and he called me my dear. A+ genius. I'm horribly embarrassed but gathering my composure I actually manage to look him in the eye as I speak, "I'm so sorry for being in your way serah." I bow again and turn to leave only to jump suddenly with a squeak as a hand lands on my own and pulls it up to-  
  
    Zevran kissed my hand. I think he's saying something about it being no trouble at all but I'm not really processing much right now. Which is absolutely fair, I mean, my hand was just kissed by Zevran. Did I giggle again? I did, didn't I? That's fair. Zevran tugs me closer and my face falls back into what has become my default state of shock and fear and he bows his head. Damn his perpetual smirk I just giggled again.  
  
    "Is there something you find amusing, my dear?"  
  
    Oh he totally caught on. I shake my head and pull away "It's nothing," My voice trails off but it's too wonderful to not say, "You remind me of an old friend is all."  
  
    He chuckles, trust an assassin to easily pick up on weaknesses.  
  
    I'm either hilarious or hotter than fire.  
  
    Actually if I'm remembering right Zevran flirts with Shale.  
  
    I'm either hilarious or hotter than a rock.  
  
    "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Zevran Arainai, charming rogue and passionate lover. At your service."  
  
    Don't say it mouth, "Good ser are you offering to service me?" Goddammit mouth we've been over this. At least I made him laugh again, that's good.  
  
    "Would you like that?" He steps closer to me again. Personal bubbles really don't affect this guy do they? I decide to play along. This is the first real conversation I've had in what feels like forever and for god's sake it's Zevran.  
  
    A smirk curls the corner of my mouth and I flutter my eyelashes, "I would like that very much good ser." I wait for him to open his mouth to respond before I continue, all traces of flirting gone from my voice, "Great! I'm so lost, could you point me to some kind of market place? I've some jewelry I need to sell but I'm completely turned about." I bat my eyelashes again for good measure.  
  
    Zevran has a good sense of humor about it and actually leads me to a merchants store, cutting through a place he calls the boulevard of the seas to get there. We actually lingered there for quite some time, I couldn't stop looking around. Zevran's kind enough to accompany me into the shop and at seeing how inept I am at haggling manages to get me a fantastic price for my earrings. I'm going to miss have dragons wrapped around my ears, but I have food money now and my priorities aren't as twisted now as they were a month ago.  
  
    We spend more time than I could say talking about nothing. I lean against a wall dazzled as Zevran tells me stories of traveling with the Warden, I'm guessing it's a favorite pickup line of his, all while I dance around answering any questions about myself. I'm actually astonished to look up and find that it's nearing sunset. I've just spent a day with actual real life Zevran. My smile falters as it always does when I accidentally remind myself that I'm insane but picks up quickly enough again when Zevran leans close, his voice full of laughter, "'And our ancestors,' he calls back, 'taught us dwarves not to piss on our hands!'"  
  
    Not the classiest joke but Zevran's laughing at it and just remembering him telling it in game has me laughing too. He leans next to me and looks out towards the beautiful swirling tiles that make the boulevard of the seas, smiling, "Ah but look how the day has passed us, and with me chattering away like an old maid. Here I am not even knowing my lady's name."  
  
    I'm giggling at being called my lady, I really need to stop that, but hold out my hand to shake his, "Rory Rivera, at your service."  
  
    He kisses my hand again and I end up snorting through my next giggle, pulling an outright grin from him when I clap both hands over my mouth, far too late to cover it.  
  
    "So you aren't perfect!" His exaggerated relief has me rolling my eyes but smiling nonetheless, "And I was worried you would have me enchanted for the rest of my days." I've giggled more times today than I have before in my entire life but I've never spent a day flirting with Zevran before so I can't be judged.  
  
    "Stop kidding around." I smack him lightly on the shoulder and look away.  
  
    "When I think I am free that voice pulls me back in. Where does one as lovely as you come from to have an accent as such?"  
  
    My face falls instantly and I push away from the wall. That's a question I still haven't found an appropriate lie for, so I don't lie. "It's getting late out, I should be going." Remember kids, avoiding the question isn't lying if you also avoid eye contact. Zevran looks surprised and I can't exactly blame him, he probably thought he was going to get laid. Maybe he thought he was going to kill me, in his line of work.  
  
    Wait a minute.  
  
    No probably not, I'm basic, it's fine.  
  
    His hand reaches out to grasp mine once again but I pull away and bow as that's apparently my thing. I stuff my hands in my hoodies front pocket, nodding at him in goodbye, "It was truly lovely meeting you."  
  
    I don't know what kind of response he had to that, I left before he could say anything.

* * *

    My feet carry me down to the docks as the sun is setting and I approach the first person I see getting off a ship, quite done with banter for now I don't mince words, "Who would I need to speak to about booking travel to Val Royeaux?"  
  
    I am swiftly directed to another part of the docks and with a quick exchange of money am shuffled on board The Slip Away. I'm not informed enough to say whether or not it's a good ship but there are at least two dozen others below deck where I'm lead waiting to set sail and it seems fairly safe to assume they're more competent than I am.  
  
    It's been at least an hour since we were all crammed down here, more and more people were led inside for the first half an hour then nobody. I feel like I'm about to be sick so we're probably already at sea but when a woman nearby me manages to shuffle through the crowd to the hatch and shoves with all her strength it doesn't budge.  
  
    This catches more than a few peoples attention and several of the closer by people come over to try to force the hatch open.  
  
    It isn't opening.  
  
    I feel sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zevran cameo what what? *raises the roof* *feels embarrassed and puts the roof back down* It's not pointless by the by unless the story suddenly changes from it's original route you will probably be seeing him in the future ;3


	4. Just Breathe

Tevinter slavers. It was going to be that wasn't it? That's just my goddamn luck. My steady stream of swears keeps people away from me, or at least as away as we can be stuffed in this goddamn box.  
  
    There isn't a window or porthole or crack for us to look to but an elvhen woman, or I guess just an elf woman, seems to be convinced that we've been in this mess for nearly a fortnight now. I'm not the only one that's feeling sick and it's a mess. People are being ill left and right and the smell of people dying has kept my hoodie sleeves pressed tightly to my nose and mouth for more time than I can say.  
  
    I wish I was exaggerating when I said they were dying. Around four days in a man who was speaking tevene, or so I've heard it repeated, carried several bodies out. They were probably tossed over board. Everyone else learned pretty quickly from that not to drink any sea water that managed to make it in.  
  
    I haven't been paying much attention to current events, do me a favor and ignore the pun, but one of the people packed into this sardine tin apparently speaks tevene. According to him we're being sailed through the Amaranthine sea past Llomerynn and we aren't planned to stop once til we hit Minrathous. That seems oddly detailed for gossip, so I'm guessing that they're guessing.  
  
    If that is what they're planning I'm going to end up being one of the corpses tossed overboard. My water skin ran empty two days ago. I've been debating the merits of drinking sea water, sure I'll get sick but I might last just a little bit- Holy shit-  
  
    I've seen enough Pirates of the Caribbean movies to know the sound of a cannon when I hear it. The whole ship rocks and people won't stop screaming. Someone just threw up again. When the ship rocks again I actually have to dodge the sick. Now I'm screaming too. There's another crash and water pours in from the edges of the hatch that's only ever unlocked to get rid of the dead and now everyone's panicking even more. The water fills the ship up to the midway point of my calves and I'm sobbing incoherently with everyone else.  
  
    When light suddenly pours in, I'm left flinching and squinting at the sunlight as the other potential slaves practically trample one another to escape, pouring from the hatch like the water had poured in, any trace of humanity gone as they claw and kick each other on their way out. I can't exactly blame them for their behavior but I go back to crouching in my corner and waiting it out. My sobbing has subsided to silent tears, but I'm trembling like a leaf.  
  
    The ship's stopped shaking, and the screaming has gone so I force myself to move, practically tiptoeing my way towards where the light poured in. I climb the short stairs slowly on hands and knees as a peek my head out, nudging my hat with my finger tips to peek past it out onto the deck.  
  
    Please don't be pirates.  
  
    "Admiral Isabela, they've bolts of silk in the back cabin, what'd'ya want done with it?"  
  
    Change of plans, I'll take pirates.  
  
    There she is before me, a pantsless pierced sea goddess. She's talking to her crew and laughing, and I want to focus on what she has to say. I want to remember every word, but she's Isabela and I think my mind just broke. I can hear her laugh and my heart skips a beat, I can almost make out her smile from this distance and for the first time since I arrived I desperately wish for my glasses.  
  
    But as anyone could tell you, if you can see something it can see you. Not quite true but it is in this case. Isabela has just called out to me. Legs that could crush someone to death, and probably have, encased in knee high boots make their way across to me and all too soon she's standing in front of me, crouching down and pressing a fingertip beneath my chin to tip my head back and look her in the eye.  
  
    My mind definitely broke. How does breathing work again?  
  
    She's smiling again and I can see it clearly now. I whimper. When the bae smiles, you whimper. It's pretty simple. I don't make the rules I just follow them. Her smile turns into a smirk and she laughs. She stands slowly, finger still beneath my chin and I follow her up, eyes wide and face blushing bright red.  
  
     Her arm is wrapped around my waist and I squeak, hands flying up to cover my face. I wish I was cool about this, but I keep forgetting my heroes are real here. My face falls and my hands shake but I don't drop them. "Sweetheart?"  
  
    Isabela just called me a sweetheart and I think that's what makes me snap. All the stress of the past month, all the time I've spent burying down my awareness of my complete mental break, every day I've spent hungry and scared bubbles out of me all at once and I'm sobbing uncontrollably. If Isabela, Isabela who is fictional, hadn't decided to rob this ship I would be dead or a slave.  
  
    She pulls me closer to her, hugging me tight and pressing my face into her chest and I'm sobbing harder now. I'm insane. I'm insane and this isn't really happening but Isabela's hugging and I don't hesitate to wrap my arms around her as tight as I can. I don't know if I'm trying to ground myself in this reality or slip away from it but I can't breathe and I can't understand a word she's saying above me. It hasn't even been two months and I already feel shattered. I feel pathetic and weak but mostly I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner.

* * *

    I don't remember getting here but I'm alone in a ships cabin, a different ship I think, probably Isabela's, the wood is darker and better maintained. The interior is richly decorated in carpets and tapestries and what space isn't taken up by an expensive looking desk carved directly from the ship's wood, which sits directly under a window pouring starlight into the room, is taken up by a massive four poster bed. I'm sitting at the edge wrapped in a blanket and I've never felt more grateful in my life. I don't feel crazy right now, but not remembering how I got here isn't inspiring positive thoughts.  
  
    Voices and footsteps dance just behind the door across from me but I don't have the heart in me to go see what's happening outside. My bag is on the desk wearing my hat and I squeak, reaching back quickly to grab my hood and cover my hair only to find it missing.  
  
    I'm not grateful anymore, I'm panicking.  
  
    I pull the blanket down from my shoulders and look down at my shirt. Anders', or more accurately, Justice's glowing face stares back at me beneath the words "Templars can go suck on a fireball".  
  
    The door opens and Isabela is standing in it.  
  
    "Oh good, you're up," She steps inside and shuts the door behind her, sliding a latch into place with a click and I barely catch the whimper trying to escape my throat. "I think we need to have a talk, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit short, should I post the next one too?? You tell me ^3^


	5. Sweetheart

Sweetheart has never been a word that's filled me with terror before, but here we are and here I am, terrified.  
  
    I'm frozen in place, all except for my eyes bugging out like a tree frog and my hands slowly tugging the blanket back up, as if she hasn't already seen Anders' flipping shit on my shirt. She steps across the cabin to me in three strides and I'm trembling violently as she places her finger underneath my chin. Why did I like this earlier? This is fucking awful. She's too close to me. She smells like alcohol, though a can't tell what kind, and the sea is stronger on her than it was on the beach if that's even possible.  
  
    "Sweetheart," I flinch at the word like the weenie I am, "As lovely as you are, your taste in clothes and men both seem to be atrocious." Fingers ringed in gold latch onto my blanket and pull it away from me, out of my admittedly weak grasp and onto the floor before she drops her hand from my chin and jabs a nail into my chest. "Who are you?" Each word is punctuated by tapping her finger against Anders' face and she's blurring in my vision. I don't realize why until the first sob hiccups it's way out of me.  
  
    I droop down where I'm sitting, wilting like a dying flower and drop my gaze from hers, looking at Anders instead. Isabela isn't holding me this time, I can't blame her. Sympathy is for those who aren't associated with terrorists. "I-" I'm sobbing too hard to speak now and it takes me far too many tries to get something resembling coherent speech out, "I'm n-nobody, nobody at- all. I didn't- I don't- He's-" My tears cut me off again and I can't look her in the eye.  
  
    This isn't a game.  
  
    I can't analyze his actions and the meaning behind each and every word he's said here because this is their reality. People died. A lot more people are going to die still and what he did sped that process up. I can't justify my shirt, because in a world where Anders exists, having anything like this even remotely associated with my person is wrong.  
  
    My hair falls in front of my gaze. Pink. That's wrong too, but I don't push it out of the way.  
  
    A pained sigh interrupts my pity party and I look up from beneath my hair to see Isabela turn and walk away. She unbolts the door, walks out, and shuts it behind her. I'm left there alone. Still shaking and in tears. Too terrified to retrieve the blanket and too, ashamed to even think. I hear Varric say "I would've spun a story." and I shut my mind off.  
  
    Several minutes pass and my tears have slowed down to hiccups and wheezing when I hear the door open again. My eyes are shut but I don't open them. I can't take seeing this insanity any longer. Footsteps trail closer too me and I can't stop myself from tensing up. I'm nothing if not a coward.  
  
    Other than the sound of me trying to force down my fear, there is silence. It lasts until the same sigh Isabela let out earlier reaches me and something warm is pressed into my hands. My eyes crack open, looking up at her warily then down to my hands to see a teacup. My nose is stuffed up from my crying but when I lift the cup close and breath as deeply as I can, I smell cinnamon and I think maybe ginger.  
  
    Isabela made me tea. The fact that I feel like sobbing again must come across on my face because Isabela sets her hand on my shoulder and speaks, "Sweetheart," It isn't scary now, "I'm not mad at you, I just need to know who you are."  
  
    I must be pathetic if she's being this merciful but after taking a sip of the tea, I nod and manage a whisper, "I'm Rory." It's about as helpful as when Cole says 'I'm Cole', and I speak it in a monotone, but my brain feels fried and I don't have the heart or the words to continue.  
  
    Fortunately Isabela seems to understand this, and asks quietly, "Where did you get that top?"  
  
    "Gabby, my friend, she- It was for my birth- nameday." Is that my voice? I must be, it was my birthday, and Gabby's my friend, but it doesn't sound like me. It sounds dead.  
  
    Her hand is still on my shoulder but she draws away to trace the seams with her fingertips, "And why did she give you this?"  
  
    My hands come up as if of their own free will and land on Anders, I'm not choosing my words anymore, they're falling from me like I fell from reality, "He wasn't bad, he wanted to help, he just- Justice- The templars were- The wardens took his cat!" I stifle my word vomit when I realize that nothing I'm saying is a complete thought. None of it makes sense.  
  
    Isabela is staring at me with shock, and my look mimics her own. She must think I'm insane. She'd be right but that doesn't make it a comforting thought. Her hand drops from her shoulder and her voice is suddenly tired, "You know about Justice?"  
  
    It occurs to me in that very instant that Varric probably wouldn't write it out and spill Anders tea like that so I just nod and add, "Ser-Pounce-a-Lot too."  
  
    This startles a laugh out of her and she turns to sit next to me on the bed, leaning back and side eyeing me, "That..." She doesn't seem to know how to finish the sentence and punctuates it with a shrug. Isabela turns to lie on her side, head rested on her hand as she smirks at me. "So, you know the name of Anders' old cat and current tag along. Plus the pink." Her eyes dart up to my hair and suddenly self conscious I push it behind my ear, "You know, I kind of assumed most mages on a slaver's ship would blast their way out. "  
  
    I'm not squinting now, my eyes are so wide open it kind of hurts and my mouth is too. "I- I'm not- That's not even- I couldn't!"  
  
    She cuts me off and winks, "I get it sweetheart, although maybe stutter would suit you better, your secret's safe with me as long as his is safe with you."  
  
    I'm staring at her and it's probably rude but I have to ask, "You don't hate him?"  
  
    She looks me in the eyes, hers sparkling, and her smirk turns into a small smile, "I don't have an opinion on this whole thing, Anders was just the mage that did the electricity thing." She shuts her eyes and hums, "I wonder how common that is with mages, it wasn't half bad."  
  
    "I- People died..."  
  
    Isabela shrugs, laying back on the bed with her arms crossed beneath her like a pillow, here eyes going to my chest as she practically sings, "Didn't stop you."  
  
    My mouth shuts with and audible click and I look down at my hands.  
  
    It really didn't.  
  
    I am absolute trash.  
  
    Standing up I walk over to desk, hands grabbing my hat and tossing it onto the bed. I reach out to my bag and grab the first set of clothes I feel. It's not exactly clean, I'd been changing along the side of the road every day just to feel slightly less gross, but it's something else to wear. I only feel slightly embarrassed stripping in front of Isabela. Mostly because my back is turned. Probably also because it's Isabela.  
  
    When I face the bed again I see that Isabela is holding out my hat for me. I take it and put it on, tucking my hair up into it and out of sight. I can feel Isabela's eyes on me as I sit back down next to her and ask. "Where are we headed?"  
  
    "Kirkwall."  
  
    Figures.  
  
    I sigh and lean my head back, my eyes shutting as I say in a passable Rivaini accent, "I don't know anything about sailing but I've heard it said 'the ship is the best teacher. She will guide you with her sighs, her shudders, her gentle swaying as she rides the crests of the waves.'" I'm quoting her and she knows it.  
  
    I always loved that line.  
  
    I turn my head to look her in the eye,"I hope I learn enough to be of some use until we get there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter but two in one day isn't bad I hope ^3^ - Also so sorry I didn't post it earlier today, I got dizzy and collapsed ^3^;; Oopsie!!


	6. Smooth Sailing

I talk pretty big for a dumbass. As soon as it was established that, no Bela I'm not talking about sex, yes Bela I know you were, I was sent up on deck to learn the ways of the sea and help in any way I can. I'm gonna be honest with you. I can't. Not even a little bit.  
  
    My knees are bright red and sore and I wince as I roll forwards on them, pushing the heavy bristled brush across the deck. My arms are about to fall off and I don't see the point of losing them for a ship that's already clean. Isabela makes sure it's kept spotless so this just feels redundant. My wrists, knuckles and shoulders are aching and the sun's been giving be a persistent migraine for a week now. On top of all that no matter how big my hat is I can't hide from the stares.  
  
    When I changed, I was being pretentious. I know that. I felt like I was making a statement and Isabela would have too if she hadn't immediately picked up on the fact that not a single article of clothing in my bag was clean and ordered me to strip down again. I've been wearing one of her shirts ever since. Apparently laundry day still hasn't come around. I felt exposed enough as it was in short shorts and a hoodie but somehow not having any shorts at all just makes me feel naked. The hoodie's gone too. On the bright side the sailors have left me alone. They gawk constantly at the tiny pale stranger in their admiral's clothes, but she must've made it clear that I was off limits. I appreciate that.  
  
    For all the time I spend scrubbing down the deck, as well as that one failed attempt to mend a sail, I haven't actually seen any of the other captured people this entire week. They keep to themselves below deck where they don't have to do anything but wait to be fed. I wish I'd realized that was an option sooner.  
  
    The sun is scorching over head and not even my hat, or even my borderline nudity keeps my cool anymore. My head pounds every time a gull calls and apparently that's all the goddamn time. This is not what I imagined sailing with Isabela would be like. Of course, since I'm crazy, this technically is exactly what I'm imagining Isabela to be like but I've started pushing those thoughts to the background. Mentally sweeping them under a rug or sticking a note to them that says, 'To break down later'.  
  
    I'm kind of proud of myself for keeping my cool this long. I haven't cried this week so that's a first, and I only froze up once when I first stepped out on deck. It might not be Thedas' exact aesthetic, but a medieval pirate ship is enough to throw anyone. I'm thinking too much. It's better to live in the pretend moment than to break down over every little thing. I mean, probably, but I don't know shit.  
  
    I've gotton over how close the horizon is. I kind of had to after I tripped over someone for the third time, always walking with my eyes on my own feet. It's not Thedas' fault it's visibly smaller than earth, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.  
  
    Wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand I let out a low groan. This sucks. I'm really just hoping we get to Kirkwall before I get scurvy. A couple days ago I asked Isabela about it, and apparently thedosians don't know that they need citrus so I'm left sitting, or more accurately kneeling and scrubbing, here waiting for everyone to get sick. I told her to bring an assload of lemons or oranges with her next time she sets sail and I thought she would question why, when really, she just wanted to know what an assload was.  
  
    I really need to work on cutting out my earth slang. I stubbed my toe the other day and a hissed out goddamn got me a nasty look from a crew member I've been informed is Andrastian.  
  
    Oops?  
  
    Of course that is another thing I need to work on. All my knowledge of Thedas is wrong. Not necessarily due to inaccuracies in the lore back home, but more because of a shit memory paired with intense bias. The things I know about the circles are all things you could only know as a templar or a mage and I'd rather not be mistaken for either. Especially not in this current political climate.  
  
    I've made a ballpark guess and I'm pretty sure we're somewhen in 9:40 Dragon. Apparently on top of that I spent my first 'First Day' in Antiva chilling with Zevran. My semi-permanent look of pained frustration is interrupted with a smile at that, all while I dig into a particularly tough bit of grime on deck. I'd already guessed this was post Kirkwall, what with the whole Admiral Isabela thing. Also the almost getting killed for wearing an Anders shirt thing.  
  
    Oh yeah, Isabela planned on killing me. I want to say I was surprised to hear that but were I her I'd have done the same thing. Actually I wouldn't and I'm still getting nightly panic attacks but you get the idea.  
  
    Members of the crew step around me as I work from dawn to dusk, only to hurriedly step out of my way as I trudge to Isabela's cabin and blackout at the foot of her bed. She doesn't seem to mind this. I'm fairly certain she's an Isabela who was best friends with Hawke. She's a bit softer when her crew can't see her. One time I woke up to her running her fingers through my hair.  
  
    I could get used to this.  
  
    My clothes are clean soon enough but Isabela insists I keep her shirt. Despite the gaping cleavage in no way filled out by my own mosquito bites, it's comfortable enough and I blend in just a little bit easier with it than without. So I pack my things away in my bag, which has been safe in her room this entire time, and keep wearing her clothes.  
  
    The day's repeat like this; Introspection while cleaning, a bite to eat that I take to Isabela's cabin, cuddling Isabela, and then sleep. It's not a routine I'm one to complain about. There was that time I walking in on Isabela getting, what's a nice way to phrase it- close with her first mate. I waited them out, sitting outside her door and covering my ears. It didn't actually block out much but at least it was muffled.  
  
    Just when it starts to feel real Kirkwall is in sight.  
  
    I guess it was time for a change of routine anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm apparently getting very sick but I don't want to stop updating every day - but I don't know if I can *wilts* I only have up to chapter 7 written so far cause I try to stay a chapter ahead but I might post just a weensy bit less than every day v-v sorry darlins
> 
> On the plus side if I keep writing short chapters but just have a ton of them I can probably still pull it off ^3^ So we'll see what happens I guess :D


	7. The Babysitter

Kirkwall is gross. It's history, it's occupants, and dear lord that smell could kill a cat. We're approaching fast and I'm really not enjoying it. Da2 was my favorite game. In the past I would've gladly thrown down in an instant to defend it but Kirkwall is a mess.  
  
    Everything is a mess really, but hey, at least Isabela's started wearing my leggings. Gotta focus on the positive. My poor gay soul suffers for it even as the world becomes a brighter, more skin tight place.  
  
    As we near the docks Isabela's first mate, Tommen I think, darts about the ship, his voice is shrill and it's carrying loud as he shouts his order for all to hear. It doesn't matter how much time I spend here, I have no idea what he's saying. The elf must've been dalish before he was a pirate because that accent is thick enough to make Merril's seem nonexistent.  
  
    As it stands the general idea I'm getting from Tommen's facial expression is to get out of the way while the competent people are working. I get the feeling Tommen doesn't like me. Of course I've been getting that feeling persistently since I walked in on him and Isabela. Dear boy must be the jealous type, and to be fair, I have spent every night wrapped up in Bela's arms. I stick my tongue out at him and his scowl deepens.  
  
    I head to Bela's cabin, getting out of the competent peoples way and shut the door behind me. This place is so, I'm not quite sure... Maybe comforting? Either way I know I'm going to miss it when I leave. And I definitely have to leave. Isabela is lovely, kind, and a bit of a hugger. As much as it pains me to think it, I can't keep burdening her. I'm not pirate material.  
  
    I drop to my hands and knees when I reach her bed, crawling beneath it with my fingers outstretched for my bag. My clothes have been packed back in it, or at least the ones Isabela hasn't claimed are.  
  
    "Loving the view sweetheart, you should treat me to it more often."  
  
    Shrieking in surprise and jumping like a terrified rabbit, I bang my head on the beams beneath her bed with a loud crack before landing back down on my face with a whimper. I really need to pay better attention to my surroundings. Latching onto one of my bag's straps I tug it towards me and crawl out. "Bela," My voice comes out as a childish whine, "You knew that would happen, didn't you."  
  
    She's already tugged me face first into her chest in a tight hug, "Oh sweetheart I would never." Her hand runs over the fast forming bump beneath my hair as she presses a kiss to the top of my head. I can feel her smirking as she does it but I just laugh into her chest and hug her back.  
  
    My head's still throbbing but in that moments my heart aches harder. I'm not going to get the chance to spend this kind of time with Isabela ever again am I? My laughter dies out and Isabela pulls away slightly, looking down at me with a cocked brow and a faltering smile, "Sweetheart?"  
  
    "It's nothing."  
  
    I'm a liar. We've established this.  
  
    Looking away from her I pull the straps of my bag up onto my shoulders and tug them tight. I move around her and reach for the door handle when she speaks again, "Tommen's going with you." My hand freezes.  
  
    Tightass Tommen? Seriously?  
  
    "Sweetheart he's not that bad." Wait did I say that out loud? "And you're going to need someone to help you find your way around Kirkwall."  
  
    I'm seriously regretting telling her I've never visited before. My hand lands on the the door and I push it open, stepping out onto the deck with a smile, "I may not have been here in person, but I know enough about it to be safe Bells."  
  
    I turn just in time to see her give me a look.  
  
    I earned that look. Bells is my 'I'm lying' nickname for her, something she's well aware of.  
  
    With a sigh my shoulders slump. I've got one last card in my deck and by god if her first mate is involved I will absolutely be pulling it out. The crew's still working hard and his shrill shouting behind me can't be doing anything to help that. I tilt my head down and look up from underneath my eyelashes, my lower lip sticking out ever so slightly as I say in a hurt voice, "Bela? Do you really not trust me to take care of myself?"  
  
    I get the look again.  
  
    My face drops. "Fine."  
  
    It takes a little while longer for us to dock fully, and even more time for Isabela to sign the registry. On top of that, the pay negotiations with the dock workers for transporting their cargo is an ungodly long process and I'm stuck by Isabela's side the entire time, glaring daggers at the harbor master. After a while he actually physically turned away from me. I like to think that helped speed up the process.  
  
    I don't hear Tommen until he's practically on top of us and I can't control the way my eye twitched when he starts talking. Again it's mostly incoherent but I manage to make out something about trade negotiations. Did he just stammer? I tune back into the conversation looking between him and Isabela. He looks horrified and enraged. Oh good, somebody just got the news.  
  
    An evil grin crosses my face at his thickly accented, "I can't. No, I won't!" He's being too loud. While that's rather easy to achieve with a voice as shrill as his the attention he's drawing is making me uncomfortable.  
  
    "Tommy-" Isabela's voice is drawn out like she's about to scold him but I have one better.  
  
    "I wanna see the bone pit." Go big or go home.  
  
    His face is bright red now and he looks like he's about to scream.  
  
    Actually the way his red vallaslin fades out into his flushed cheeks is kind of cool.  
  
    Bela seems genuinely amused with my comment but whatever she assumes Tommen's about to do is apparently less so. "Tommen," Her voice has a bit of a sharp edge to it. This is Admiral Isabela speaking now, "You are going to take Rory around Kirkwall." I'm grinning and I stick my tongue out at him when Bela's not looking but suddenly she turns to me and I dart my tongue back in, slamming my mouth shut. "Rory, he's taking you to see Kirkwall, not the Bone Pit, and Unless the Rose has had a sudden name change, that's not in Kirkwall."  
  
    I'm pouting but I nod, the edge of the outright order taken off by the slight joke. Tommen's less than amused but he agrees as well. At least I think he does, he said it out loud so I can't be quite sure. Isabela gives us each a hug in turn, and I'm pleased to say that mine lasted longer, before heading off without us. So either the Rose or the Hanged Man I suspect.  
  
    Being left alone with Tommen wasn't something I was anticipating fondly, or at all for that matter, but I make it work. I set off into Kirkwall with him trailing along behind me, both of us ignoring one another.  
  
    It works for us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommen and Rory for the curious - I would've drawn Tommen but I got lazy  
> 


	8. I Didn't Think This Through

It doesn't work. Apparently Tommen can't catch a hint and after less than a block started talking. Then he wouldn't shut his mouth for two seconds. 'Kirkwall smells, Isabela's better than this, he needs a drink.' Doesn't he know how to close his mouth?

   A drink. Perfect! I latch onto his hand and dart back, taking the stairs from hightown to lowtown three at a time, so much for scoping out Fenris's mansion or sneaking into Hawke's place, but this will be so much better.

   "Fenhedis girl, what do you think you're doing now? I thought you wanted to go to hightown, it's up that way you-" I sling him forwards by the arm into the hanged man and yank a coin from the pouch Isabela gave me on the ship, the one she insisted I keep my money in instead of leaving it loose in the front pocket of my hoodie. The coin is swiftly smacked down onto the bar with an insistent, "Put literally any drink in this man."

   Tommen's still scowling at me and it looks like he's going to say something so I speak before he can, "You said you needed something to drink right?" I pitch my voice up and tip my head down, "I was so inconsiderate for not buying you one earlier, can you ever forgive me?" His glare is thrown off by his complete and utter shock and I have to stop myself from losing my cool.

   Baby face on Earth? Serious pain in the ass. On Thedas? Sweet sweet relief.

   I turn back to the bar, not wanting to throw off my game by laughing in his face, to have two drinks set down in front of us. I reach out to them and look up to the man tending bar with a smile and say, "Thank- Tethras."

   Varric Tethras is behind the bar smirking at me. "So you're the one Rivaini was talking about, huh?" He eyes me up and down, his smirk growing, "Can't say I get it but she's always had a habit of picking up stray kittens."

   Something between a giggle and a shriek bubbles out of my throat and I'm left covering the blush on my face with both hands. Tommen steps up beside me and from between my fingers I can see him cock his head at Varric, "You one of the Admiral's then?" He seemed to be sizing Varric up, the same look he's constantly shooting me edges it's way back onto his face.

   "Admiral is it? Good to know Rivaini's staying out of trouble," He winks at me, and I snort into my next laugh, "But no, sadly I can't say I'm hers. My heart belongs to Bianca, and she's the jealous type." He actually pulls Bianca from beneath the counter and I drop my hands from my face, leaning in close.

   "Holy shit, that's really her." My eyes are probably scarily wide and I reach out a hand as if to touch her, but draw back. It's rude to put your hands on a lady. Varric smiles at me and runs his hand down Bianca.

   "You know Bianca?" Suddenly his hand on Bianca feels like less of a novelty and more of a threat, "Now where could you have heard of her?"

   My mouth opens and shuts dumbly as I am all too suddenly reminded that this is a man who runs a spy network in his spare time. Before I can make up an obvious lie Tommen steps in, one hand grabbing the handles of both of our drinks and the other clasped on my shoulder, "The Admiral tells lots of stories when she's had a bit to drink, your crossbow made it into them almost as much as your chest hair."

   Did Tommen just help me? I look up at him from his side and nod along with his words, mouth half open in just a touch to much surprise but Varric's nodding too. Trust a fellow liar to let private matters slide. Tommen's hand on my shoulder is pulling me away insistently and I'm left doing a double take at Varric and waving as I'm made to cross the room.

   We sit down at the farthest table we can in silence. Tommen is sipping his own drink while I stare at him, my hands idly spinning my own mug. He doesn't even look at me as he sets his drink back down and says in a bored tone, "What is it?"

   "You helped me." It was supposed to come out like a question but it didn't. Apparently I'm not in full control of my brain right now. "Why did you help me?" That's better.

   He sighs like my very existence pains him and drains his mug in one go before reaching across and taking mine. It's only occurring to me now that I only asked for a drink for him, not that I mind, but I'm not quite sure if I paid for it. Tommen doesn't down the second mug, he just toys with it idly as I had before and speaks as if he were explaining something simple to a toddler, "My captain ordered me to guide you through Kirkwall." He levels his gaze on me and of course it's a glare, "I wouldn't be much of a guide if you got shot on day one."

   "Day one?" This actually startles me, is this supposed to be a thing from now on? Because I'm not exactly comfortable with that.

   His glare gets more intense, "Yes, day one. My captain was worried for you for some reason and trusted me to see you safe until we can return to the ship."

   Return to the ship? Shit. My love for Isabela is burns hotter than the inside of a dragon but I'll be damned if I spend the rest of my days seasick and scrubbing floors. I've gotta ditch this angry elf.

   Tommen's gone back to drinking and I cross my legs. Then I uncross them and cross the the other way. I squirm my entire body with the movement and twist up my face so he has to notice. Of course this is Tommen we're talking about so he's steadfast in ignoring me. So I do what's worked for me so often before. I whine.

   His eyes leap up from his drink and I think one of them might even have twitched a little as he speaks through clenched teeth, "What?"

   "I have to potty."

   "What?" His voice is flat now.

   "I have to potty." I trail off the word potty with a whine. I don't actually need to but it make's his eye twitch again and that's what I'm all about.

   He sighs like he's given up on the world and moves to stand. I force embarrassment into my tone, "What are you doing?" His glare is piercing as he settles back into his seat.

   "Do you need to piss or not?"

   Rude. I glare back at him and cross my arms, "I'm not going to potty with you. That's nasty."

   So maybe having a baby face isn't a blessing.

   We glare at each other in stone faced silence before he relents, lifting one arm to lazily point behind him, "It's through there, just hurry up."

   I'm on my feet before he can finish speaking and darting for the room he pointed to, shutting the door behind me and doubling over against it. Is sweet sweet freedom worth this smell? Barely.

   There's a small window in the back covered by a bit of cloth and I'm suddenly very thankful for my twelve-year-old-boyesque figure as I squeeze through it. I land on my ass with a painful thud on the street below and hiss out through my teeth as I force myself to stand back up. That's probably going to bruise. Freedom in exchange for my tailbone and sense of smell is just barely worth it.

   I'm away from Tommen. So... What now?


	9. Wanderlost

I set off on my own, filled with freedom as a grin spills forth across my face. I'm practically skipping through Kirkwall. As terrible as this place is, and it really, really is, it's still Kirkwall. It's the home I psuedo-spent ten years in as Hawke and I am loving every moment of it. I make my way through all the streets I recognize, up and down and around lowtown and hightown both, only stopping when I reach the place the chantry used to be.  
  
    I am in no way pro-chantry, but my stomach lurches at the sight. There's still rubble strewn about within the blast radius. It makes since, they can't exactly ride in with a bull dozer and clear the area out but it doesn't seem wise to have it serve as a constant reminder of what mages are capable of. Especially not here.  
  
    I hesitate before moving to take a step forwards, into the ruins of the chantry when I hear a shrill voice call out, too close for my comfort, "Rory! Fen'Harel's balls where is that brat!?"  
  
    Goddamnit Tommen I was being introspective. Why'd'ya gotta go and ruin everything? I don't hesitate a step longer as I dart forwards into the rubble, ducking behind what looks to have been a statue at some point in it's life, but now lies desolate, nearly unrecognizable.  
  
    I can hear footsteps go by as a litany of elvhen swears, I now know to be mispronounced, announces Tommen's arrival. He must have at least one decent bone in his body because he stops when he reaches the steps to what was the chantry. I hear one more curse, this one half hearted before the steps retreat away from me.  
  
    I don't get up right away. I simply stay where I am and tuck my legs beneath me, head bowed low. The maker could be real or entirely fictitious but either way, not saying anything doesn't feel right. I'm not religious. A catholic upbringing will do that to anyone, but in spite of it all, I bow my head and fold my hands.  
  
    I wouldn't describe my thought process as praying so much as loudly hoping things get better. Of course I know what's coming next. The mage/templar war, Corypheus, the Inquisition, the qunari attacks. All of it raining destruction down on Thedas.  
  
    I feel silly for hoping and get up to leave.  
  
    I'm less amazed now. I'm not grinning at any and everything I recognize or running up to touch things at random. I actually passed by Fenris and Hawke's mansions without bothering to look. I don't feel good about this.  
  
    Maybe I'm crazy. No. I am crazy, but even in this delusion people still get hurt. How can I be lucid and powerless at the same time? How can I imagine anything like this? Hell, even Tommen's too real for my tastes. Why would I imagine someone who steps on my hands while I scrub the deck of a ship? Why would I imagine cleaning? I'm really tired.  
  
    Kirkwall isn't a distraction now. It's a reminder that I'm here, maybe in person, though probably not. I'm not happy anymore. Pacing was always an outlet for me, walking in circles over and over, simple repetition to send your mind anywhere else. I used to imagine I was in Thedas. Now I'm just imagining being home, wearing pajamas, petting a cat. I pace.  
  
    Even though it's a city, Kirkwall isn't large. I actually manage several laps before the sun starts to set and I only had to duck away from Tommen twice. I almost feel bad about it but I can't muster up any strong emotion in me.  
  
    My feet drag to a stop in front of a blank wall. Until it isn't. My eyes go wide, and I turn slowly, as if I don't want to spook the door that had suddenly appeared beside me. It definitely wasn't here before, I've been this was three times now.  
  
    Raucous drunken laughter echoes from behind me and I'm suddenly reminded of all the unnecessarily large fights that Da2 had in every single nighttime alley. I push through the door without thinking, shutting it tightly behind me only to hear, "What was that? Well? Go look into it Thaddeus."  
  
    The sound of grinding stone is deafening as he does, and I'm left staring up, open mouthed, at Thaddeus Gigantus Crumbum the Third.  
  
    I've just found the black emporium.  
  
    The wooden planks of the walkway into the emporium creak beneath the stone golem's massive weight and I'm left fearing for it's sturdiness. Then I'm left fearing for my life. Thaddeus lifts me into his massive stone arms and carries me into the emporium itself seemingly completely oblivious to my less than effective struggles even as I flail and shriek like a cat that would rather kill than be held.  
  
    I'm placed onto my feet rather gently by the most terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life. I'd stumbled back from it, from him, and shuddered. As patchy as my memory has always been I remember how golem's are made in Thedas.   
  
    I turn away only to flinch back in horror when my eyes land on Xenon the Antiquarian. He's a corpse, not a lowpoly static model of one, an actual, rotting, decayed corpse. I think he might be slightly offended when I stumble away, collapse to my knees, and vomit. The look I give him must show that because I hear a long suffering sigh come rattling from his corpse before he speaks. "I get that far more often than you would think."  
  
    I can't actual imagine ever interacting with him without being ill but if he's that used to it, I can only force myself to hold back. I do have manners after all. Thaddeus leaves with the painful sound of stone grinding only to return shortly with a bucket and rag. I step away from the sick as Thaddeus moves to clean it up. I can't stop my continuous murmured apologies until well after he's already finished.  
  
    Xenon sighs again and explains, as if I'm not entirely aware, "Thaddeus has no free will of his own, it is of no concern to him whether or not he's cleaning up after sick or templars. Nasty things."  
  
    I feel bad but I choke on a laugh at that. Same.  
  
    "Come here." His tone is clipped.  
  
    I squeak out loud before scurrying towards him, all while trying not to look directly at him, and stop just before where he sits. I clasp my hands behind my back, as if at attention, if only in an attempt to conceal their near violent trembling. He sighs again, and this one sounds a bit like Isabela's usual. It's tired and pitying.  
  
    "Tell me," My eyes dart up to him and immediately bounce back to my feet, "How did you get past my wards?"  
  
    My brow furrows in confusion and I catch myself almost looking up once more. Tone cautious, I speak, "There were wards?"  
  
    "Of course there were wards!" His voice is booming and I stumble back, my hands coming forwards reflexively as if to defend from a blow, "There are very few worthy enough to enter my emporium! Who exactly do you think you are to wander in from the streets? The gall of it!" His voice is echoing and he drawls the whole thing out dramatically.  
  
     I actually do look at him this time. He's still horrifying, something I'll definitely be revisiting in my nightmares, but I manage to hold what I assume is eye contact as I say, "I'm Rory and I'm not from this world." I hesitate only slightly when I say this, but I mean, it's Xenon. Who's he gonna tell? Thaddeus?  
  
    If empty sockets could gawk, that's what his were doing. He's staring openly at me, slack jawed, though that doesn't seem to be something he has much of a say in, and whatever magic or artifact he is using to speak echos to a start multiple times before managing, "Pardon?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait - I'm not the healthiest kid on the internet ^3^;;


	10. Deal

"I'm from another world." There's no response so I continue ever onwards, "It's called Earth, we're not good at naming stuff."  
  
    "Another world..." Xenon's voice comes out subdued, contemplative, and if he had eyes in his skull I'm certain I would feel them dragging over every inch of me. The bug under glass feeling is uncomfortable. I'm starting to regret this. "Are you perchance a spirit?"  
  
    I shake my head.  
  
    He swears in what sounds like tevene.  
  
    "I'm not sure quite what to tell you, but that's my deal." I shrug as I say this, trying to act casual all while silently hoping I don't end up as a nasty stain for Thaddeus to clean.  
  
    "Your deal." His voice is drawn out and I'm suddenly regretting my word choice. I really need to do better with using slang, "I accept."  
  
    My expression goes blank to match my mind, "You what?"  
  
    "You wish to stay in my emporium as an otherworlder, if that is your deal, I accept it."  
  
    "Oh no no no no no- No- That's- God no!" I'm not about to be collected, holy fuck.  
  
    "Well what then? What deal are you trying to make with me little girl?!" He sounds annoyed now, I think I have offended him this time and my mind is spinning.  
  
    My mouth opens on it's own to explain that I just meant it was the situation I'm living with but I pause. What deal can I make? Whatever artifact he's using to speak echoes out a noise like a clearing throat.  
  
    "Well? If you are just here to waste my time-"  
  
    "I'll tell you about my world if you let my stay in the emporium for a little while."  
  
    Xenon pauses.  
  
    "No."  
  
    I hear the sound of stone grinding on stone behind me as Thaddeus approaches and I shriek, stumbling towards Xenon and almost tripping onto his weird podium/enclosure thing. My hat falls off at his feet.  
  
    "What's this now?" I'm not moving, Thaddeus isn't moving, and Xenon isn't moving, though again, not by choice. "Pink? Why is your hair pink?"  
  
    My hands reach up to thread through greasy locks that have spent far too long unwashed and I grasp at my chance to not be a puddle, "Hair dye. The color was plum orchid when I first put it in but it faded out like this." My hands pull through tangles nervously, I can feel that bug under the glass look again, "I have a tube of it in my pack," I can't actually remember if that's true. My voice cracks. "I- I'll give it to you if you let me stay the night?" It wasn't supposed to be a question. It was supposed to be assertive, very take it or leave it, but I'm more than aware of my every ineptitude at this point.  
  
    No one speaks for an uncomfortably long moment while I practically kneel at this enchanted corpse's feet, wringing my hands to stop them from shaking.  
  
    "You will give me this hair dye and tell me of your world." Another pause stretches between us, filled with me nodding so rapidly my gross hair smacks me in the face. His artifact echoes out a sigh, "Very well, you've got yourself a deal."  
  
    I grab my hat from the ground, popping it back onto my head before swinging my pack around and pulling the zipper open. My hand darts in, shoving around clothes that aren't nearly as well organized now than at the start of this whole journey, not that they were well organized then either, stopping to close around the first solid thing my hand encounters. I yank it out and my sigh of relief is almost a sob as I see the familiar packaging of generic store brand hair dye.  
  
    I set it down in front of him and lean back to sit on my haunches, heart rattling as the fear of not being able to follow through on our deal wheezes out of me. I miss inhalers.  
  
    Xenon's kind enough to wait for me to calm down before he starts questioning me about Earth, or maybe he's just trying to read the ingredients on the back of the hair dye. Who knows? Not me, that's for sure.  
  
    "So you are from a place called Earth?"  
  
    "Yeah, we're bad at names."  
  
    I can feel his withering stare again so I fix my gaze on my hands.  
  
    "What is this Earth like."  
  
    "I- " Shit. What is Earth like? My mind darts around for a while as I try to decide where to start. "It's-... We, uh, call it the blue planet, because the majority of it is taken up by the ocean. It's a lot bigger than Thedas so the horizon is farther away. Um, we only have one moon. It's called the moon. Like I said, bad names. Um-"  
  
    "One moon? How do your tides work with only one moon?"  
  
    "They- Uh- Actually I was wondering that about Thedas..."  
  
    This goes on for hours.  
  
    I'm still kneeling but I'm folded over, practically collapsed into myself by the time Xenon notices how slurred my speech has become and how I wasn't blinking my eyes at the same time when I could manage to force them open.  
  
    "You are tired."  
  
    It comes out as a statement, not a question, and I just wobble my head in something resembling a nod and hum in response.  
  
    Xenon hums right back at me then calls out, "Thaddeus!" His voice is booming and the sound of stone grinding together is painfully loud but I'm too exhausted to even flinch at the noise, "Pull out Urchin's old bedroll! Where is that tucked away again? Bah! You should know these things."  
  
    Apparently Thaddeus does know these things because in a matter of minutes a bedroll is placed at and unrolled by where I lay and I sway towards it, a whimper pulled from my throat at the sight. Something soft to sleep in on dry land. I could cry. I almost do.  
  
    "That's enough for one night child. Rest now."  
  
    I tip over sideways towards the bed roll half way through his sentence and land on my face, already asleep.

* * *

My dreams suck. A horrible nightmare tears me open, all the worse because it feels so real and I curl up in a ball. I'm never reading fanfiction again after a dream like that. Being hungry and cold and scared and threatened. Just wanting to go home.  
  
    Actually, I feel cold right now. My hand reaches out across my mattress, my eyes still shut as I pat about for a blanket. My fingers touch rough wooden boards. My eyes snap open.  
  
    I'm getting real fucking sick of this happening every morning.  
  
    I feel nauseous, like I'm about to burst into tears when, "Thaddeus!"  
  
    Xenon's voice booms out and I practically leap into the air, yelping like a startled puppy at the sound.   
  
    "Where did that Hawke girl leave her stave? I could've sworn it was within my line of vision."  
  
    It takes more than a few moments of frantic breathing with my hand clasped desperately to my chest before I can calm myself down, but at least I'm not thinking about waking up in Thedas anymore. Well, I wasn't.   
  
    My heart skips a beat at the thought that this will never go away.  
  
    It skips again at another echoed, "Thaddeus! Fetch me Chauncey!"  
  
    Oh well. For now, this is just my deal.


	11. Venture Forth

Chauncey is a delight, one I spend the next hour cuddling as Xenon continues to pepper me with questions as he had done the night before. I'm so tempted to stay, reveling in the roof over my head and the tiny polar bear in my lap. Although I'm certain that Xenon would accept what he had originally perceived to be my deal in a heartbeat, I'm not about to oil a corpse on an hourly basis. I shudder. How he's found anyone who would is beyond me.

   I take in my surroundings once more as I stand, so tempted to look with my hands, to run fingertips over priceless magical treasures, but with no guarantee that they aren't about to blow up in my face I rather wisely decide not to. Still though, it is beautiful and tempting. A sigh escapes my lips and I turn back to Xenon, though I don't look directly at him. I'd used up all my willpower to do so the day prior and I'm certain if I try again I'll be left dry heaving. As my hands tighten on my packs straps and I haul it further up my shoulders and I stoop to grab my hat Xenon's questions stop.

   "You are leaving already."

   It isn't a question and it doesn't need an answer but I give him one anyway as I push my hat on and tuck my hair away, "I probably mentioned that I was headed to Orlais last night, right?"

   The artifact he's using to speak announces a loud 'Hrmph' that I take as confirmation.

   "I should head out as soon as I can. The quicker I leave the quicker I arrive, y'know?" Plus Tommen might still be looking for me, though I don't say that last part aloud. I look enough like a child without having a guardian trying to find me in a crowded public place. Although the mental image of Tommen as an aggressive soccer mom screaming in a supermarket does have me snorting.

   Xenon sighs again and I almost feel bad, he wasn't bad company and the stories he had to tell sprinkled between his questions about Earth were all incredibly fascinating. I'd love to pick his mind for everything he knows of magic. "I suppose our deal was just for the night. You'll at least tell me how you got through my wards before you go?"

   I pause. This was the second time he's mentioned that and I give the same response I had last time, though I sound much less cautious now, "There were wards?"

   "Of course there were wards," I'm getting a feeling of deja vu that's quickly dashed when he continues, "They had been set in place to hide the entrance to my emporium. No one should have been able to see the door, never mind walk through it without knowing of them."

   I remember the door appearing out of the corner of my eye and frown, "I think I might know what your talking about..."

   "So how did you pass them?" He seems somewhat annoyed now, as if I'm being purposely dense.

   "Well, I didn't." If empty sockets could give a dirty look then that's what I was experiencing so I elaborate, "There was just a blank wall, and then there was a door. I didn't really do anything to cause that I don't think. It just- " I search for an appropriate word and come a blank, dumbly settling for, "Happened."

   "It just happened." His voice is oozing skepticism and I roll my eyes.

   "Yeah. It was probably just some kind of one off thing. Very glitch in the matrix."

   "The what?"

   "Doesn't matter."

   He sighs again. I'm starting to get the feeling Thedas doesn't appreciate my wonderful personality.

   "Thaddeus," His voice isn't booming, simply bored, as if the temporary novelty of my presence had completely worn off, "Where are those boots? You know the ones, that woman in Vol Dorma lost them twice before selling them- There they are!"

   The sound of grinding stone drowns out the sound of my grinding teeth, it's worse than nails on a chalk board and I want to squeeze my eyes shut and hum or stomp or do anything to shake the sound out when it stops beside me. Thaddeus places a pair of proper medieval boots in my hands that I accept without question, confused and curious to see where this is going.

   "Leave those pitiful things you're wearing here and take those, they'll grow with your feet, or so I was told when I acquired them." I want to explain that shoes from my world likely last ages longer, and that I'm too old to still be growing, but I don't. It's the sentiment that makes me sit down by Thaddeus' feet and happy embarrassment at being given a gift that has me untying my shoes and placing them at the edge of Xenon's podium.

   There's silence while I pull the boots on, admittedly a slightly awkward one but everything is awkward to me, even back on Earth. The shoes slip on easily and I roll my ankles around one at a time, testing how it moves to find it barley noticeable. They fit like a glove and I'm smiling at my feet. "Thank you." I say, my voice filled with genuine gratitude.

   Xenon's artifact makes that noise like clearing a throat again and I get the feeling he's embarrassed when he says, "Nonsense. A trade is simply a trade."

   There's another silence and this one is tense before his voice booms out, "Well? Off with you! I have important business matters to attend to. Our deal is done."

   I smile at the edge of his podium. Apparently I'm not the only one who doesn't like goodbyes. I turn and nod to Thaddeus and he ignores me, for animated stone he sure isn't very animated, and on the way to the door I lean down to scratch Chauncey behind the ears. He ignores me too but that's just Chancey's way of showing affection. It's better than a nip.

   Looking back towards the others I smile before pushing my way through the door and shutting it behind me silently. I see it disappear into the wall as I turn to walk away. That's probably for the best.

* * *

My feet carry me to the hightown market place, smart feet that they are, so I can buy supplies for my journey. There's a woman with a thick Orlesian accent peddling wares at a stall I don't remember being in game and I find myself approaching her quickly.

   "Ah! Welcome darling, what may I help you with today?" The accent is so thick it reminds me of some of the less than french voice actors in game yet I don't find it annoying. The woman seems very eager and is smiling brightly and I find myself smiling back without even thinking about it.

   "I- Hi!" That was a bit too loud and she titters out a little laugh. Damn my nervous gay heart.

   "Hello," She says, humor clear in her voice, "Is there something you need?"

   "That's-," Function brain, justify yourself, "You're Orlesian." The woman nods, her smile curling up to show the faintest hint of a smirk.

   "Oui, je suis Orlesian."

   I think my mind just melted and I'm suddenly reminded of how pale I am when I feel the heat in my cheeks. Dear lord I'm blushing. Think quick. "I'm travelling to Orlais," Yes! "I was wondering if you might know how much supplies I'll need to take with me. I'm not the most experienced traveller, to be honest I'm not even sure how long it will take to get there." My rambling trails off into a mumble and I rub the back of my neck, looking away from the intimidatingly attractive woman.

   She must find it endearing because she titters out another laugh, "That would depend on how you want to get there. Thankfully you came to the right person." She holds her hand out to me and entirely unaware of what to do, I clasp it and bow. She quirks a brow at me and I try not to look mortified as I quickly release her hand and take a step back. I really need to learn Thedosian manners.

   "Allow me to introduce myself my lady." That has her smiling wider so I must be doing something right, "I am- " Do I have a title? Fuck it, "Lady Rory Rivera. Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"

   She's tittering again, and though much tanner than me I think I can see a blush and I shuffle my feet nervously. My heart's going to pop. "I am Allette Deniel, regrettably I must admit that I am no lady."

   Is getting that wrong an insult or a compliment? This is hard. Time to ham and cheese it up, "But my lady are you quite sure you are not nobility? You hold yourself with such grace and poise, I simply assumed it was as such."

   Varric would be having a field day with this fluffy nonsense but my heart's skipping beats as she turns her eyes away, bringing a hand up to her mouth to hide her smile as it melts into a genuine one. "My lady you are too kind," Her eyes jump back to mine and she drops her hand, though her smile remains genuine and gentle, "Shall we discuss your trip to Orlais?"

   I open my mouth to say yes when, "Rory!"

   My face falls at that damn noise as my shouting soccer mom's voice cuts through the scene in all its obnoxiously accented glory.

   Allette notices my sudden change in demeanor, "Is this a husband?"

   A husband? Like one of multiple? Orlesians man. Orlesians. My head shakes and I tug my hat lower, voice falling to a quieter tone as I say, "More of an overly protective guard, really." Tommen's voice calls out again and I sigh, "I'm afraid I must take my leave quite suddenly lady Allette."

   So much for getting supplies.

   She coos out quietly, a sound of empathy before looking about. Whatever she thinks she might see isn't there and suddenly her hand is on my wrist, tugging me out of the courtyard and further into Kirkwall's commercial district. Tommen's voice is left far behind me as she winds her way around to a place I've not seen before, a much higher class tavern than the Hanged Man, marked only by a hanging sign with a cat who's tail curls to steam.

   The Curled Kitten isn't loud like the Hanged Man, there's no smell of sick or, well, that's better than nothing, and it's fairly clean compared to what I've seen of Thedas so far. Allette leads me to a table near the back, away from the windows, and places herself between me and the door.

   My heart's jumping at her kindness and at being suddenly, relatively alone with this beautiful woman. My hand reaches up on its own as if to push my hair behind my ear and I am left with my usual problem, quickly settling for tugging my hat down. She's smiling across from me and orders for the two of us when a woman comes to ask us what we'd like. I'm not paying enough attention to know exactly what that is.

   "So, are you planning to go on foot, with a caravan, or by ship?

   The question startles me, not so much the words on their own, but the fact that she's asking them now as if she hadn't just made a break for it with me.

   "I- Um- I was planning to go on foot," I pause because actually I hadn't planned anything, I just set myself a goal and started walking, "I suppose if there is a caravan headed the same way that welcomes me, I would not be apposed to joining it."

   "I see. If you're headed there on foot the fastest way to reach Val Royeaux would be by following the coast to the Imperial Highway." She pauses and drags a finger across her lower lip as she thinks and my eyes are dragged along with it. Calm down. Calm down. Jesus Christ. Now my eyes are focused on her lips as she speaks again, "You would need about two months of supplies to get there, dried meats and bread." Her mouth curls up into her smirk and her hand drops, reaching across the table to brash against mine, her fingers ghosting over my hand absently, "Of course, you would need more than that were you to travel with someone else, my lady." She's practically purring as she adds on, "It must be very lonely for a noble such as yourself to travel unaccompanied."

   My expression goes completely blank.

   She's playing the game.

   The woman who asked us about our order earlier comes back in that moment and I use it as an excuse to pull my hand away. I thank the woman with a smile and pass her a handful of tiny coppers from my pouch, entirely guessing the cost of the meal, apparently correctly, and the woman gladly takes the money with a smile and leaves.

   My eyes focus on one of the identical plates that had been set before us and my heart stops. Real food. Not bits and pieces I was offered by the kind hearted and generous, real food with real meat and potatoes and what looks like steamed greens. If a stomach could burst into tears of joy mine does as I focus on eating, completely and thoroughly distracted from the woman across from me. I don't glance up even once until my plate is completely clean. When I do it's to see a quickly masked look of disgust.

   "You have quite the appetite." Allette tries to sound flirty but it doesn't come out right.

   "I suppose I do." I actually surprise myself with how cold my tone is and based on the flash of surprise and then rage on Allette's face, she is as well. "Thank you for you advice Serah Deniel." That's right jerkwad, you just got downgraded to serah.

   I stand from the table hurriedly, pulling my hat down at the front once more, "I must take my leave, I've some supplies to purchase."

* * *

It takes me a while to make my way back to the marketplace and I do so hesitantly, ever wary that Tommen might still be lurking about. There's no sign of him and I don't hear enraged shouting so it feels safe enough to approach a market stall displaying various food, some of which I guess to be dried meat, though I can't actually see that it is till I've already approached.

   The man standing behind the stall eyes me rather rudely. I suppose fleeing from the marketplace at the first shouted name isn't an admirable trait. I like to think that maybe it's just the hat.

   "Somefin' ya' need?"

   No banter here I see, "Two months of travel supplies for one."

   The man grunts and nods, turning to some crates behind him and going through them quickly, A lot more meat and bread than I was expecting is placed in front of me along with what I'm guessing is a bedroll.

   How am I supposed to carry that in Señor Fluffybutt? I'm not.

   "I'll be needing a pack as well if you have one." Do I sound like I know what I'm talking about? No? Makes sense.

   Again the man grunts and turns around to rummage in his many crates, only turning back when there's a sizable leather bag in his hands to place with the rest of my purchase.

   I reach forwards to pick it up and he pulls it back, "Fourteen silvers."

   That- That might be the rest of my savings.

   I pull out my purse and grab fourteen silvers as directed, knowing that if I even make an attempt at haggling he'd probably start asking for forty. I hand the money to him without looking and my eyes stick on my purse. I was right, that was all I had.

   A pained sigh eases it's way from my lungs as I tuck my empty purse into my belt, eyes staying downcast until the bag, fully packed with food and bedroll, is held beneath my line of sight.

   "Thank you." I say, sounding tired even to my own ears, as I reach out and accept the bag, quickly swinging the strap over one shoulder.

   I'm turning to leave when I hear the man mutter, "Poor kid."

   The laugh that bursts from me isn't intentional and I can't help but respond, "You have no idea."

   Then I walk away, not stopping until I'm well out of Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer ^3^ yaysies :D - also should I go through and change the story's formatting? idk ^3^;;


	12. Bear With Me

Just put on foot in front of the other. Now do it again. Repeat this process indefinitely. You tired yet? Twinsies! Now do it again wearing leather boots with paper thin soles and no socks. You about to blow fire out of your face? Twinsies!

   Honestly as appreciated as I felt at the time when I accepted these boots from Xenon, they ain't really doing it for me. I feel like my feet are going to fall off and every rock, stick, and particularly pointy acorn is just a bit too noticeable through these. Also they smell.

   I stamp my feet and let out the tiniest little rage shriek before I drop to my ass and pull the damn things off. Tipping them upside down has my eyes twitching as water literally pours from them. You'd think just walking along the beach wouldn't cause that but here it is, potentially ruined.

   Speaking of walking along the beach, when I was told I would have to follow the coast to the Imperal Highway, I assumed that the massive fucking forest between here and there would've been brought up. Let me make this very clear. I am from Florida. Being from Florida means I've barely seen trees taller than a one story house, never mind a fucking forest and it's already batshit scarifying without even entering. Do you enter a forest? I sure as shit don't know.

   Wet sand sticks to the bottom of my thighs as I stand and I'm so tempted to just lie there and never move again. When I think of forests, I don't even have a mental image for them other than a vague idea that the trees are tall, but this forest is apparently the mother of all forests, looking like mirkwood and in my way. Bare toes dig into sand and I whine, will I need shoes in a forest? These are barely working for me on a beach. They might as well be leather socks.

   I shouldn't pout. The people of Thedas deal with worse things every day than uncomfortable shoes and big trees, but I'm not the people of Thedas, and I am pouting. I sigh as I try to pull a boot on and the sigh turns into a growl. They won't go back on. Note to self, wet leather, no matter how potentially enchanted, is unforgiving. I'm beyond tempted to launch the boot at the forest but I have no upper body strength and no will to bend back down and pick it up. So I don't. Instead I grab a pair of panties from my sloth pack, wrap the boots up in the leg holes, and hang them from my leather pack. It looks ridiculous but I've given up. Actually, every step I take I can actively feel myself giving up more. But I keep taking steps any way. Tiny ones. On my tip toes because the wet sand is uncomfortable and I'm not here for that.

   The trees creep far too close to the waters edge, so much so that I can already tell that if I try to stick to the shore and skirt around the edge of the forest I'll end up swimming. As lovely as that would be in some parts of Florida, Thedas is ridiculously cold. I'm not counting on the water being pleasant whatsoever. I sigh again. I'm doing that too much and I feel like a broken record, but I'm actually going to have to navigate my way through this forest for an end goal involving coffee, I think I've earned sighing.

   And it had better be damn good coffee.

   Every step I take in the forest echoes out the sound of crunching leaves punctuated by the occasional Spanish swear and frightened squeak. Okay so maybe it's not occasional. Maybe it's a constant litany of anger and discomfort. You would think that spending everyday struggling to pay rent while working multiple jobs and learning to ignore hunger wouldn't count as living in the lap of luxury, but apparently I used to be a god damn princess.

   I think I just stepped in some shit.

   A let out another rage shriek. This one isn't the tiniest little one either. This was full on hollering to the heaven's that god and everything he stood for could eat my ass.

   By the way, just in case you're curious, screeching in the forest isn't the best possible way to stay safe in Thedas. Actually it's probably way down there with slapping a magister or being anywhere near a cave. Or being related to Hawke. That one doesn't go well either.

   A growl echoes out behind me, stopping me mid-screech. It's low, it's deep, and it's big. I freeze in place, because if you don't move you're invisible. You know, like in reality. A heavy footfall, or I guess pawfall, crushes leaves beneath it's weight and I whimper like a weenie. My breathing comes out short and despite how blurry my surroundings always are my vision gets suddenly worse, going dark for just an instant as a large shadow spills over me and the creature roars.

   Fucking bears, man.

   There's another noise too, this one's not as loud as the bear but it's noticeable enough. It's an ungodly wailing that's hurting my ears and- I'm screaming again. The sound is me. I whip around suddenly, cutting off my shrieks with a sudden sob as my eyes fall on the fuzzy monster. I've turned just in time to see it rear back to lash out a blow. Oh would you look at that I'm screaming again, whoever would have seen that coming?

   I roll out of the way. Nothing in my life will ever be as cool as- I just rolled head first into a tree. Looking over my shoulder as I dart up and around the tree I just hit, I hear more than see the bear absolutely splinter another tree to pieces in one hit.

   This is the most humiliating thing I will ever admit to happening to me.

   I pissed myself.

   I bear almost killed me and I wet my pants.

   At least the combination of humiliation and adrenaline gave me enough of a boot to desperately scramble up my new tree, thankfully one much thicker than the one the bear destroyed, and I spent the rest of the night there, crawling higher and higher up the branches until I could feel myself swaying with the wind and couldn't make out the bear from the forest floor. I could still hear it, but at least it was conveniently blurred out of reality for just a moment.

   I wrapped my arms and legs tightly around the tree like a child clinging to a parent's leg and I stayed there. It would be an uncomfortably long while before I got a chance to climb back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so sorry :(( this took forever because my health sucks and I just couldn't make it come out right so take it and let me run away to my next plot point already TTnTT *sobs*

**Author's Note:**

> Lot's of love for reading this far! Even more for kudos and an infinite amount for comments! :D  
> None of this is beta'd - if you spot a flaw pretty please tell me it! ^3^


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